Family Ties
by aLLiCaT225
Summary: Murphy finds out just how useful rope can be...Conner/Murphy. TWINCEST.


**A/N: Second Boondock fic! Woot! And first actual Lemon AND it just so happens to be Twincest! Yeah, so, I've had this idea for a while now and finally seeing Boondock Saints 2 gave me the inspiration to finally write it. So, here it is. **

**Disclaimer: Everything in the Boondock franchise belongs to Troy Duffy and friends. And since I don't belong to either of those groups, I own squat. **

**Rating: Hard R**

**Warning(s): Questionable use of rope and Twincest. Don't like? Well, you best be getting out of here right now. **

If there was one thing in this world that Murphy MacManus truly despised, it was rope. Stupid. Fucking. Good for nothing. Rope. And yet, his brother, his twin, his own goddamn flesh and blood could not get enough of it. And while Murphy could admit that, at times, it did come in handy, he was sick and fucking tired of dragging thirty pounds of it on every single one of their little "missions from God."

All it took was that one fucking time, their first act of justice, where the stupid fucking rope was basically the sole reason they walked out of Copley Plaza alive and then Conner was hooked.

"Well, 'name one thing yer gunna need this shtupid fuckin' rope fer?'" Something Murphy would here in his sleep.

_'Yeah, sure, great it saved our sorry asses from fallin' completely out o' an air vent tha' yeh got us lost in in th' first place. Tha' doesn' fuckin' mean we need ta bring it everywhere we fuckin' go!'_

Every time Murphy would question its usefulness, Conner would just say something about the Rambo-esque knife that the darker twin kept clipped safely on his belt. Conner would always ask him what good having a hunting knife was when you had two guns. And no matter what he said, Murphy's argument was a losing one every time.

Well, that was all about to end tonight. Murphy was going to make his brother see that even his precious little rope had a dark side.

He waited until Conner was in the deadest of sleep. Murphy knew that Conn was a notoriously heavy sleeper, something he learned way back when they were just wee lads. It allowed for Murphy to play all kinds of tricks on his twin, ranging everywhere from drawing on his face with permanent marker, to placing his hands in a glass of warm water. However, those innocent little tricks were nothing compared to what Murphy had planned for tonight.

When he heard the loud, grumbling snores coming from his brother's bed in their dingy motel room, the telltale sign that Conner wasn't waking up anytime soon, Murphy made his move.

Taking the piece of thick black rope that he had cut early when Conner was in the shower, Murphy looped it around one of the poles of the headboard before gently lifting his brother's hands over his head and knotting the rope tightly around his wrists.

Once he was finished, Murphy took a step back to admire his work. There was no way Conner was getting out of this one. Now all that was left to do was wake him up, and then Murph's fun could begin.

Conner's snores had died down now, and Murphy took that as his cue. He grabbed a cigarette and his lighter from the nightstand and moved to stand at the foot of the bed. Lighting up and taking a long drag from the cancer stick, Murphy paused for a moment before…

"Conner!" He shouted his twin's names as loud as he could, his voice reverberating through the room like a gun shot. He took another drag from his smoke as he watched his brother in amusement, now wide awake, shoot up from the bed only to be yanked back down by his ties to the headboard.

"What th' fuck?" Conner appeared utterly disoriented as he looked up and tried to wrench himself free from his restraints.

"Problem, Conn?" Murphy innocently drew the cigarette from his lips as they curled up into a smug smile.

Conner paused for a moment, squinting in the darkness before his eyes widened with anger. "Murph, what th' hell is goin' on? Why th' fuck am I tied up?!"

"I don' know," Murphy shrugged and took a step forward. "Why don' yeh ask yer shtupid fuckin' rope tha' question?"

"Th' fuck?" Conner tried to sit up again. "Murphy, what th' fuck are yeh talkin' about?!"

Murphy remained silent, walking forward while taking the last few drags of his cigarette before tossing the butt into the ash tray on the night stand.

"Not so very useful like this, is it?" Murph leaned closer to Conner's face and lowered his voice. "Well, at least not ta you it en't. Fer me on th' other hand…" He left the sentence hanging in the tobacco filled air, not giving Conner anytime to protest as Murphy smashed his lips into his twin's.

As soon as he felt Conner starting to give in and kiss back, Murphy pulled away, earning yet another look of 'What th' fuck?' from his brother.

Murphy responded by swinging his leg over his twin's body, situating himself atop Conner's lower body. He grinned when he felt that Conner was already half hard, the horny little bastard.

"Get th' fuck off 'a me!" Conner tried to move, but the weight of his brother on top of him and the rope around his wrists prevented him from getting anywhere.

Murphy rested his hands on the head board and grinned down at his brother.

"Now, why would I do tha'?" He punctuated the simple question with a roll of his hips, knowing very well that the friction created from his own body plus the thin layers of the sheets and the fabric of their boxers would drive Conner crazy.

His theory proved true when a strangled moan escaped Conner's mouth.

"Yeh sound like yer enjoyin' it." Murphy growled and dipped his head to nip at Conner's earlobe before moving to his neck and tracing the black lines of the Virgin Mary with his tongue.

"Oh, fuck you," Conner managed to gasp out.

Murphy smirked against his brother's tanned skin. "Not tonight." He rolled his hips again, and started to kiss and nibble and lick his way down Conner's heaving chest.

"Tonight," Murphy continued, "is goin' ta be all about you and yer fuckin' obsession with rope. Consider it an intervention."

"'Ave yeh fuckin' lost it?" Conner breathed.

Murphy just expelled a dark chuckle and continued to make his way down Conner's stomach at a painfully slow pace. Finally he reached the point where skin met fabric, that was now tented by Conner's erection.

But for the purpose of teaching his brother a lesson, Murphy stopped there and instead got off the bed to remove the single item of clothing he was wearing. Like everything else, Murphy did it at an excruciatingly leisurely pace, Conner's eyes glued to him the entire time and following his every move.

As soon as his boxers hit the floor, Murphy grabbed a hold of his own cock and began to move his hand up and down his length.

Murphy let out a content little sound as he did so, eliciting another moan from Conner. He looked like he was about to lose it.

"Do yeh like yer shtupid fuckin' rope now? Do yeh?" Murphy's voice came out as a husky whisper as he continued to pleasure himself while his brother watched.

"Oh fuck." Conner was panting now and a light sheen of sweat started to glisten on his skin.

"Did ya see this in a fuckin' movie?" Murphy went on, increasing the speed of his strokes.

Conner just groaned and chewed on his bottom lip.

"Didn' think so."

"Jesus fuckin' Christ!" Conner cried. "Yeh better stop yer teasin' and get th' fuck over here and touch me, right fuckin' now or I swear ta God I'll—"

"Yeh'll what?" Murphy stopped what he was doing and got right back up in his brother's face. "Yeh seem ta be fergetin' tha' yer a little tied up at th' moment."

"Fuckin' son of a bitch!"

Murphy could tell that his brother was starting to get the message so he decided that he would show some mercy. Taking hold of both the bed sheet and waist band of Conner's underwear, Murphy tore it off in one fell swoop once again straddled his brother's lower body.

"Is this what yeh wanted?" Murphy purred, gridding their erections together. The skin to skin contact made them both cry out with pleasure.

"Oh, fuck ya!" Conner gasped and threw his head back as Murphy did it again, before sliding down his twin's body.

Conner started to make a nose of protest, until he looked up and realized that Murphy had now situated himself in between Conner's legs. He watched as Murphy licked his lips once before encircling them over the head of his brother's cock.

The action is enough to make Conner buck his hips involuntarily into Murphy's mouth and howl with rapture. He smiled as his twin's eagerness and started to bob his head up and down in slow, languid movements. Murphy could tell by the sounds that are coming out of Conner's mouth that he wasn't going to last much longer. He tried to drag it out for as long as possible, but Conner's grunts of "faster" and "more" and his incoherent mumbles of "fuck yes" and "please" were persuasion enough for Murphy.

He picked up the pace and within moments, Conner was coming into Murphy's mouth, the darker twin swallowing it all like it's his fucking job as Conner cried out in ecstasy. When he finished, Murphy lifted his head off his brother's now limp cock, and never one to be out done took himself in his hand once more and with two sharp jerks, his release shot all over Conner's stomach.

Murphy collapsed lazily down on the bed next to his brother, still shaking with pleasure and breathing as if he'd just run a marathon.

When his brain started to function normally again, he rolled over onto his back and glances over at Conner, who looked both pissed and utterly spent at the same time. Conner shifted his eyes to the rope that still bound his wrists before turning them on Murphy, who appeared to utterly pleased with himself.

Scoffing, Conner looked back up at the ceiling and shook his head.

"You and yer fuckin' rope."


End file.
